imperfection isn't always so
by within a sepulchre
Summary: -"He wanted what she wasn't willing to give, and she desired words to be spoken before she trekked to a dangerous place that she had little knowledge of."- supposedly fluff. drabble-ish. for Hannah! R&R.


**A:N: This is my blatant attempt at fluff and some sort of drabble.. I think? Try to enjoy.**

**Dedications: all for Hannah (**_**the wonderful oz**_**)! **

**Disclaimer: Disclaimed, my dear Lisi.**

**;;;**

She had always enjoyed the bronzed, heated sun beaming sharp, radiant rays through her skin.

He had always ravished the slivered moon shining cool waves of naughty promise around him.

**;;;**

She was ecstatic about the new M.A.C. bronzer and the recent Marc Jacobs line and, secretly, light eyes speckled with dark flakes of brown. But she could never reveal such a thing.

He was brewing with newly confirmed truths of life and the ecstatic high of every girl after him and a (no!) golden mouth slick with sardonic adages and beauty. But-oh-he could never tell.

**;;;**

They'd always leapt into bundled relationships with rose petals and sweet honey interweaved and outcomes that never turned out straight.

They were inquisitive with their coupled other. They wanted perfection. And maybe they got it.

**;;;**

They had met at a young age, clashing hearts not meant for the other's immaturity.

But they were brilliant together in appearance.

Her auburn curls, that always seemed to shine and radiant more than her beloved star, gleamed and smelled of rich Downy and fresh fruit.

Her eyes were a molten gold, an unblemished yellow smudged with a fair brown and creating a sight glorious to behold.

Her figure was slight and trim and was envied by many of the pining followers.

But he was close to equality with her.

His hair was long and untamed and as golden as her promising orbs, his eyes as shiny and an intoxicating caramel, his stance broad and toned and wrinkled with hard-earned muscle.

But, yet, such a magnificent couple in visage could _often_ not stand the other's presence.

**;;;**

She was to be his after he spotted her brilliant eyes squint and spark up in anger when seeing the glowing sun race behind a crafty cloud.

He had been the only one that noticed her enraged countenance and her muttered, "I fucking _hate_ the weather."

To say that he was interested was a bit of an understatement.

**;;;**

She was attracted to his sweet (but not really sensitive) attitude and love for all things natural (including the lack of deodorant) and mischievous eyes.

She had fallen, in what seemed to be somewhat of a mangled, confusing love, after observing him howling under a full moon.

He had been unfortunately quite sober and with a sane conscious.

She should have sneered and mocked and been her usual condescending person. But she couldn't.

He drew her attention in a way that she was hesitant to admit.

And maybe-just maybe-he was even more attracted to her.

But, unlike her, he wasn't scared.

**;;;**

It was a cool, distant evening with the sun shining light, breezy rays across her backyard and family scattered socially around in her spacious home when some sort if intimacy occurred between them.

Her bronze skin glowed and radiated health and beauty and harsh innocence, while her knowing eyes brought much tension and clammy palms.

His heart quavered and skipped in his chest as he brought one tentative hand to hers and playfully tugged her to him.

Her eyes widened then narrowed into a glare; she snapped her slender hand against his chest.

He laughed and called her a pansy.

She crushed her heel on his foot in punishment; he ignored the inflamed sore leaping up on his foot and crushed his lips to her full, crimson ones, previous thoughts and motions drowned and tucked away in some particle of his clogging mind.

All he felt was her deftly sweet tongue wrapped with his, and her smooth arms snaking around his neck.

And he was lost. As he always had been.

**;;;**

They were locked with each other until the glorious moon shone its deathly glow upon them, and their parents beckoned and annoyingly shouted for their presence.

The moment would never be forgotten.

**;;;**

It was far from a perfect relationship after that.

He wanted what she wasn't willing to give, and she desired words to be spoken before she trekked into a dangerous place that she had little knowledge of.

But Derrick Harrington had never been a fake. He couldn't tell her something he wasn't sure of.

And _Massie Block _was no fool.

**;;;**

They broke up too many times to even estimate, but their obvious infatuation with each other never ran out. And it was never going to.

He would take her to a Japanese restaurant (which she called him very original to do though she wasn't a big fan of Japanese) and feed her sushi, dripping with soy sauce, by hand.

She could barely swallow as her giggles overwhelmed and sprouted into laughter and her lady-like person vanished, leaving an ordinary, but albeit very beautiful girl in its wake.

Those were always some of the best nights of his life.

**;;;**

But naughty Derrick couldn't keep his hands off other girls- it was always a challenge having females watch and hungrily observe his every move, socially and physically.

He only kissed her lips once. And they couldn't _compare _to Massie's.

They weren't sweet nor considerate; his face felt wet and devoured by her greedy mouth, and he had pushed her away at the first chance he had gotten.

But he had sealed his reputation with one messy kiss as the whole school found out that _Derrick Harrington _had made out with Kristen Gregory.

He would never forget (unfortunate for him) the heartbreak and the rage and the pain scribbled messily across her thinly wound face as she wearily strode past him.

He called her. She didn't answer.

**;;;**

He ran out of sane options to win her back. So he kidnapped her.

He had blindfolded her and kissed her lips; she had bit into his mouth, drawing dots of rusty liquid across the malicious lip-lock.

He had smiled and tugged a seatbelt over her.

He had brought her to a field with long, flowing grass and tall pines and an open view of the _blueblueblue _sky. The sun was bright and warm and calming, and she relaxed into his arms as he whispered how _fucking _sorry he was into her silky hair.

A lone tear escaped onto her flawless head, wetting what he treasured most.

And then he told her that he loved her.

**;;;**

Their mornings consisted of laying out in the heat, with the sun glaring hot rays down and over their bodies, but Massie never cared.

And Derrick would do anything for her.

**;;;**

Evenings were spent outside reclining on the basket woven swings glancing up at the moon.

They had never asked about the other's love of the terrestrial. It was just who they were, and one permanent thing that they had in common.

His hands stretched and entwined itself around hers, and his soft lips pushed against her cool cheek.

He murmured that he loved her softly against her skin, frozen with anticipation and some sense of anxiety.

Her lips curled up in a gentle smile, and her hands squeezed his softly. Her _sunglasses_ (as she refused to take them off, daytime or not) were smoothly slid off her face, and her lips _slowly_ opened: "I love you too, goofball," and then closed in some infinitely smooth melody.

Her glasses were settled back over her eyes, and her lips were pursed into the night sky.

And he leaned over and kissed her in the moonlight.

He knew that his time of day would always reign victorious. It always brought light.

**;;;**

They were silly children and hormonal teenagers that made a few too many mistakes, but their love for each other had-would-always overpower all tribulations.

Because Derrick Harrington and Massie Block fit and meshed and tangled together perfectly as if in one of her favorite romance movies. But they were better and definitely more realistic, and life _wasn't_-it wasn't!- going to stomp or crush them to pieces.

She reeked of promises and hope and life and a joy that Derrick had never thought he would have.

He shone with beauty and desire and love-so much fucking love-and a consideration that she'd never dreamt of having .

**;;;**

"_You come to love , not by finding the perfect person, but by seeing an imperfect person perfectly."_

_-Sam Keen_

**;;;**

**A/N: I'm sorry if that was really bad, Hannah (It seemed like it.) . ;(**

**And to anyone else: that was my (really) first attempt at fluff. Hope I succeeded. **

**-Livvy**


End file.
